The Black Stallion
by HeddaGabler
Summary: On her quest to find the seven Dragon Balls, Bulma needs a mount. She finds a black stallion, a highly spirited one. Will Bulma be able to tame the fiery horse? And what is it about that horse that seems so... Human to her? AU Prompt inspired.
1. Punishment

My first Dragonball fic in a long, long time. Yeah! This story will be told in drabbles and longer pieces, because each chapter will be inspired by a prompt. The prompts were given at the Blue & Black, a Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal.

This chapter was written for the prompt: Growl – 200 words. Originally posted on January 27th 2011.

Have fun!

Hedda

Disclaimer: Bulma and Vegeta don't belong to me.

+++ooo+++ 

Standing in a fairly dark room, surrounded by hooded figures that were almost twice as tall as him, Vegeta had no other choice, but to wait. He glared at the handcuffs he was unable to remove, despite of his Saiyan powers.

As the hissing and growling continued, Vegeta could not resist the urge to roll his eyes. He had always thought that the gods were more eloquent than this. Then again, he had not thought to get caught by them, either. And now they were debating on the punishment for his deeds.

Finally, the figure opposite to him took a few steps towards him.

"We, the gods of Deira, have decided to punish you for your wrongdoing, Vegeta, prince of the Saiyans," it hissed.

Vegeta was about to ask what the punishment was, when the creature raised its long hand. A tingling sensation that soon became a raging fire took over his body. It felt like his bones were melting. He screamed from the top of his lungs, yet he had the distinct feeling that no sound emitted from his mouth. Burning fire was replaced by an icy cold and with a final defiant glance at the gods, Vegeta fainted.


	2. Choice

Prompt: Longing – min. 700 words. Originally posted on February 6th 2011.

Have fun!

Hedda

+++ooo+++ 

Bulma Briefs sighed at the mirror's reflection. The black mini dress with fringes, the pink shirt she wore underneath it, the brown leather boots and the equally brown cowboy hat complimented her curves and made her look fabulous, but she doubted this cowgirl outfit was suitable for the journey that lay ahead of her. Then again, what could she expect from this jerkwater town?

Straightening her spine, she paid for the clothes, grabbed her tawny cloak and exited the small shop. The shop owner had told her to walk a mile to the east in order to find what she sought. Thus, Bulma hit the road.

It didn't take her long to reach the stables on the outskirts. Just when she entered the run down building, a weird smell hit her nose. At first, she suspected that the stables hadn't been mucked out for a long time, but when the smell came closer faster than she would have appreciated it, she revised her assumption. A man who was as tall as he was wide appeared, the distinct odour of rum was coming off in waves from him. If she hadn't been in such a desperate need for a horse, she would have turned on her heels.

"Hey chick, wanna buy a horse?" he droned.

Bulma hesitated for a second, but she nodded anyhow. He motioned her to follow with a gesture of his hand and then the man clad in a grey cloak shambled away. Bulma was surprised that in spite of the building's poor condition, the horses seemed all tended and healthy. Huge draft horses with friendly eyes were watching her; some of them had even bows in their manes. She approached them admiring the strength of these horses, but at the same time, she eyes them critically. These cold bloods were bred for heavy work like plowing and hauling. Her shoulders slumped down a fraction and she was about to ponder which horse she would choose, since she had to buy one, when a bloodcurdling cry echoed through the stables, accompanied by a loud bang.

The rum loving giant trotted towards the commotion yelling at his henchman, with Bulma close on his heels. At the very last stall, three stablemen were angrily shouting at the inhabitant of the box, one was examining his bleeding hand.

"That stupid beast has done it again, it has bitten me," he howled.

"Forget about it, the butcher will come tomorrow and get rid of it for us," his boss replied.

When Bulma closed the gap on the owner, she could finally see the animal that had caused the ruckus. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. She approached the animal inch by inch ignoring the warnings of the stablemen. Standing there, tossing angrily its head was a rather petite horse. Barely sixty inches tall, it featured rather short and wiry legs, firm fetlocks and small hooves. The muscles were lean, the croup rather level and the black highly carried tail was lashing indignantly.

"Everything will be fine," she cooed. "I won't let them hurt you. But I will only be able to help you, if you don't bite my head off. Deal?"

When Bulma opened the stall under the vivid protests of the stablemen and entered the domain of the snuffling horse, it seemed to relax a bit, for its tail stopped its whipping movements. She longed to touch the silky black coat of the stallion. It seemed so inviting, so soft. Reason was screaming at her and yet, she could not resist the urge. Tentatively she reached out and when it didn't move a muscle, her fingertips made contact with the coat. Encouraged by the horse's reaction, or the lack thereof, she moved closer and stroked the elegantly arched neck. Large onyx orbs were watching her closely; its nostrils emitted soft noises of contentment. Soon enough her hands were retracing the delicately chiselled features of the wedge-shaped head.

Just when her hands were combing through the black mane, she heard someone clearing his throat. She turned her head, glaring daggers at the stables' owner for actually considering selling this Arabian horse to a butcher.

"I'll take him," she declared in a firm voice.

She had expected them to thank her for buying the temperamental stallion, but instead they roared with laughter. It took the owner a few moments to calm down. He wiped off the tears from the corner of his eyes, before he spoke.

"And what do you want with such a feeble, little pony? Chick, I like you and I admire your bravery, but don't you think you would be better off with one of my other horses?"

Once more, Bulma turned her gaze towards the animal next to her. She had to agree that this horse was rather small, but so was she. However, the most important thing was that she had great distances to cover and her journey would lead her through the most dangerous deserts of this hemisphere. Arabian horses were known for their frugality and stamina and this vibrant stallion would prove his worth, she was certain of that.

"I'll take him or none."


	3. Name

This drabble was written for the Blue and Black community at Livejournal, where it won third place. Prompt was: Nail – 400 words. Originally posted on February 11th 2011.

Enjoy!

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Biting her nails had always been a bad habit of hers since childhood and even now as an adult she was unable to get rid of it. In her case, however, it was not an act caused by nervousness, but rather a sign of indecision. Her mother would make a fuss over her nails and drag her to the next manicurist, complaining about her sometimes not very ladylike behaviour.

Bulma cocked her head and regarded her new companion. He was currently tied to the paddock's gate and kept an eye on the vicinity. They were still at the stables, as the saddle needed to be customized.

"Humphrey?" she offered. The stallion turned his head towards her. Bulma shook her head, while she patted his neck. "Yeah, I don't think so, either."

Finding a name for her new mount had proved to be a more difficult task than she had expected. To her mind, it was essential to have a fitting name, because it would accompany one for the rest of one's life. Therefore, she wouldn't rest until she had found the perfect name for her four-legged friend.

Just when she was about to resume her patting, the sable horse shook his head and neck and stepped away from her as far as the lead rope allowed him, turning his back on her. Well, the term friend was clearly something they needed to work on.

"What about Shorty?"

The stallion snorted and Bulma evaded yet another angry whip of his tail just in time. She suddenly had the urge to dub him 'Grumpy'. Then again, did she really want to call him that in public? Such a name would reflect poorly on her creativity.

"That's it!" she exclaimed.

At least, the horse turned around once more. She couldn't believe that it took her so long to come up with a proper name. In her father's library above the fireplace hung a huge painting of a black horse, running towards the sunset. The artist was one of her father's favourite.

_Father…_

With a new determination she approached her horse. Eyes were narrowed, but he did nothing to stop her. Bulma's right hand found its way to his forelock, while the left caressed his muzzle. She drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore the burning sensation she felt in her eyes.

"We can make it. Together, nothing will stop us. Right, Chagall?"


	4. Premiere

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal. Prompt: Summer. Originally posted on February 24th 2011.

Enjoy!

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The stage was set.

The audience, a couple of sparrows sitting in the nearby gate, was fighting over the best seats in the front row chirping excitedly. The reviewers had come as well. Each stable man was armed with a bottle of rum leaning on the stable's outer wall. The spot light was provided by the summer sun, which smiled benevolently upon this play's heroine.

Bulma adjusted her cowboy head and then approached her new sidekick, the now fully bridled Chagall. Taking the reins into her slightly sweaty hands, she drew in a deep breath. Her left cowboy boot found its way onto the step, she grabbed the front part of the new leather saddle and then she pushed herself off the ground, swinging her right leg carefully over his flank. She released her breath when she eventually sat comfortably on the saddle. To her surprise, Chagall hadn't moved a muscle when she had mounted him.

She always loved sitting on a horse; it gave her the impression of being tall and mighty, floating over the ground. Bulma gazed down at Chagall's shoulders. Chuckling she realized that she wouldn't feel as tall when riding her new stallion. After all, he was barely taller than a pony. Nonetheless, he held his head high, his little ears twitching and turning around as he was observing the world around him. He certainly was vigilant for a horse.

The first act had been a success, as the critics were whining and the audience tweeting. So the time had come for the second act. The young woman pressed her legs against the torso of the black horse, nudging her heels once into his side. Chagall reacted straightaway and started to move. Another major difference between him and the other horses she had ridden before became prominent rather quickly. His strides were short and abrupt; they had neither the elegance nor the softness of her previous mounts.

Already dreading the result, she prodded him again, which caused him to accelerate. He fell into a trot, his head jerked up once. Soon enough, they left the small town and the second act was over, too. Bulma's nerves calmed with the refreshing summer breeze and thus she prepared herself for the third act.

If she had read the program, she would have known that the third act would start sooner than she had expected. Before her neurons transmitted the impulse to nudge him, Chagall started to gallop. His gait was rough and patchy and her lower body screamed in protest. Her surprise from his early start hadn't fully ebbed away, when he bucked.

A shrill noise escaped her throat, but she was able to stay atop. She didn't blame him, though. It was only understandable that he expressed his joy of his newfound freedom in a playful way. When he bucked for the second time, Bulma assumed, it was just in order to shake off his limbs. Who knew for how long he had been imprisoned in that small stable without an opportunity to run to his heart's content?

After the third, fourth and fifth time, however, Bulma knew he did it on purpose. If it hadn't been for her good riding skills, she would have kissed the sand long ago. She was unable to fathom out why he was trying to buck her off.

Yet the best riding skills would have been useless, when Chagall decided to gallop one second and to come to a complete halt in the next. This time, he achieved his goal. Bulma landed face down in the veld. Her body bruised from the impact, lacerating her skin. She heard Chagall snicker and then the ground pulsated as he dashed away.

Third act: Epic failure.

She didn't know for how long she had been lying in the dirt, her thoughts clouded by the pain she felt in her head, when she was able to feel the earth pulsating again. Was it a rueful Chagall? Mustering her strength, she turned around facing the sky. She was greeted with two sets of yellow teeth.

"'Ello Sweetie! Whaddya doin'?"

Before Bulma was able to do anything to defend herself, the man had already clonked something heavy over her head. Everything went black, the curtain called.


	5. Captured

This drabble was written for the Blue and Black – a Bulma and Vegeta community at Livejournal. Prompt was: Shower – 500 words. Originally posted on February 24th 2011.

Enjoy!

And thank you for the sweet reviews!

+++ooo+++ 

When Bulma came to, she was greeted with a killer headache. The constant throbbing and drumming were driving her nuts and she had not even opened her eyes yet. She was afraid to do so, as she was hearing the voices of several men. They were arguing about something, but she couldn't quite decipher their words, as their means of talking were grunting, snorting and belching.

She had been badly mistaken, when she thought there was no worse smell than the odor the stable men emitted. However, the stable men had at least only smelled of rum, lot of rum. Alcohol was also a prominent part of the air, yet the stink of rotten flesh was overpowering everything, causing her to feel sick.

When yet another powerful and foul-smelling wave washed over her, she tried to reach her nose with her hands. Of course, she was not able to, since she was all tight up in ropes. Bulma finally gained the courage to open her eyes. She looked skywards, as dark grey clouds were menacingly floating above her head. She tilted her head slightly and she blinked against the light of a crackling fire.

Three brawny men were sitting near the fire and to her utter dismay, they were inspecting the contents of her bag. Panic began to rise inside her system, her brain searching frantically for a solution to distract them. She was too late, though. They had found it.

The tallest of the three dug in her bag. A smile was plastered on his face, when he showed his two companions what he had found. Clutched by chubby fingers, sparkling in the light of the fire like an orange sun, was the dragon ball she had gathered some days ago. Her hopes that the men would not know of the power of the dragon ball died soon enough.

"Holy crap, I've heard of these!" he snorted. "See the stars on that ball? One, two, three, four! It's one of them, one of the dragon balls!"

When his fellas shrugged, he stood up and held the dragon ball above his head, while stomping on the ground. Bulma's eyes widened. Was this some kind of victory dance? One of them murmured something and the man holding her dragon ball slapped him in the face with his other hand. Ignoring the whining of his mate, he continued.

"There are seven of them! Legend tells that if one gathers all seven of them, a mighty dragon appears and you get a wish!" he exclaimed happily.

"What wish?" the third man asked. He was the one who had captured her.

"Anything! We will be rich, Murky. Rich!" the tall one responded.

Bulma groaned, but it was drowned in the ruckus the three produced as they were cheering and already planning what they would buy from the money. She averted her gaze, when rain drops began to fall on her face. Soon enough a heavy rain shower started to pour down on her.

_Father… _


	6. Information

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal. Prompt: Nightmare. Originally posted on March 4th 2011.

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Finally free… Well, sort of.

Vegeta shook his head trying to get rid of his tack, but that stupid woman had fastened it onto him quite tautly. He pondered whether he should try it with all his might or simply wait for another few days. Deciding it was not worth the trouble, he focused on his whereabouts. He scanned the surroundings with his eyes, sniffed the air and listened to noises. If he interpreted the information correctly and he was sure he did, then it was safe to say that he had absolutely no idea where he currently was

After he had disposed of that obnoxious woman, he had galloped across the plains without a destination. Thus he eventually had ended up somewhere in a canyon. Red rock formations were glowing in the light of the dying sun and they were all he could see no matter where he looked. This rock shaped like an ape, he had passed by it already thrice. Vegeta nickered in frustration.

Soon enough, dusk fell and with the approaching darkness his senses began to recede. The worst parts of being a horse, apart from losing his strength and dignity, were his weaker senses. They were the reason why the poacher had been able to catch him in the first place. Thus he had ended up in the stables and was prepared to die when the blue-haired woman interfered.

_Save me… How ridiculous!_

Vegeta sneered. There was no salvation for him, he had fallen from grace. Once the mighty prince of all Saiyans, the strongest fighter in the universe! And now he was nothing but a hack. Oh, if the butcher had only relieved him from this nightmare!

Black ears twitched turning around, as they perceived a muddle of noises. Drawn like a moth to the flame, Vegeta trotted towards the noise, since curiosity won over him. As he neared the source further, he was able to decipher snippets of the conversation.

"…in her bag?" a hoarse voice asked.

"Dunno. Let's open it!" grunted another.

Carefully, Vegeta moved in the shadows, slowly approaching the camp. He was able to hide beneath a huge rock, while observing the scene before him. Three good-for-nothings were sitting around the crackling fire, rummaging through a slightly worn-out bag. His eyes narrowed when he recognized the bag. He scanned the area and soon enough he was able to spot the woman lying sluggishly on her back, she had let herself getting all tight up. Her eyes were wide opened, focused on the three men. Vegeta had to suppress a nicker when one of the men suddenly acted strangely, causing an uproar.

"Holy crap, I've heard of these!" he grunted holding a shiny ball over his head. "See the stars on that ball? One, two, three, four! It's one of them, one of the dragon balls! There are seven of them! Legend tells that if one gathers all seven of them, a mighty dragon appears and you get a wish!" he continued happily.

"What wish?" a companion asked.

"Anything! We will be rich, Murky. Rich!" the one with the ball responded.

Confused by the man's explanation, he mustered the woman's face and judging by her distress and how angrily she watched the three idiots, the man was telling the truth. Maybe there was a way out of this nightmare for him after all…

Little hooves pranced in a flurry of excitement, but the sounds they made were drowned by the three humans who were causing quite a ruckus. While they were planning what to do next, Vegeta did a little bit scheming of his own.

Three adult, yet drunk humans were his opponents. It was already pitch-dark and the rain shower which had started to fall wasn't helping matters either. And there was the problem with transporting the dragon ball. He doubted he would be able to tow the valuable item in to the saddlebag. His gaze rested on the woman who was trying to free herself from the ropes, but to no avail. She was a weak human, a weak human with two healthy hands and with a credulous heart to boot.

One didn't need to be gifted with prevision to see that Vegeta exchanged one nightmare for another.


	7. Saviour

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal, where it won third place. Prompt: Cheer – 300 words. Originally posted on March 4th 2011.

Enjoy!

+++ooo+++ 

A bloodcurdling scream cracked through the silence of the camp, followed by a blunt thud and angry shouts. Bulma woke with a start from her half-sleep. She was confused, because she didn't know what had caused the commotion, when a black shadow galloped into the camp, snickering fiercely.

It was her renegade horse!

Instantly, Bulma tried to get on her feet, for she had no desire to be crushed under the hooves of that temperamental mount. Luckily for her, the three men kept the black stallion occupied. They attempted to get a hold on the reigns, but Chagall was too quick in his reactions and his lack in height actually paid off as a favour in this small campsite. He was way too agile for the brawny and drunken men.

When the tallest of the three received a kick from Chagall and fainted, the dragon ball fell out of his hand and rolled over to her. Bulma doubled her efforts and finally she found shards of a broken rum bottle. She crawled over the ground and tried to cut through her ropes. Sweat formed on her skin as the broken piece war rather dull, but her eyes were focused on the horse and his two remaining adversaries. When one of the men was able to hit Chagall with a club, she felt her heart sink.

"Chagall! Don't let them get you!" she screamed.

The moment the two men were distracted, Chagall dashed forwards and finally managed to put them to flight. Bulma who had been successful herself, stood up and ran across the camp, cheering and jumping around the black horse watched her closely. Bulma flung her arms around his neck.

"You returned and saved me! I forgive you for everything," she said.

Then she broke into tears of relief.


	8. Agreement

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal, where it won third place. Prompt: Close – 200 words. Originally posted on March 5th 2011.

Enjoy!

+++ooo+++

Bulma stooped down and picked the dragon ball up from the ground. The rain had finally stopped, yet her face was still wet from freshly shed tears. She pressed the wondrous item against her chest and breathed heavily.

She was brought out of her reverie when she heard Chagall snuffling quite noisily. She turned around and watched him how he was tenderly licking a small cut above his shoulder. A small smile appeared on her lips and she went over to her bag, grabbed her favourite muffler and returned to her companion.

Carefully, she pressed it against his coat. The stallion watched her closely and occasionally shook his neck. To her relief, the cut was only shallow. Disregarding her muffler for the moment, she reached out for his nose and patted it softly, while she gazed into his onyx opals.

It was in that very moment, even though not a single word was spoken that there was an agreement between the two of them. Their eyes were only inches away from each other. She was able to see in his eyes that he would accompany her on the path that lay ahead of her.

The struggle for power was closed.


	9. Regrets

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal. Prompt: Aim. Originally posted on March 19th 2011.

Enjoy!

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It had been the day after their triumphant over the bandits, when Bulma was sitting on a log, rummaging through her bag in search for something eatable, only to find her four star dragon ball softly glowing, indicating that another one was near. She had jumped on her feet, taking Chagall's reigns in her hands, who obviously had decided to ignore her quirks from now on, as he didn't protest against her rash movements.

The dragon ball in one hand, the reigns in the other one, she followed the impulses of the mysterious orb, checking every second, whether the glowing increased or not. The monotonous echo of her horse's footfalls was encouraging her in a way she would have not thought possible. Bulma continued her path on the sandy serpentine roads that steepened as they became narrower.

"We are close now," she told Chagall, when the dragon ball was almost as bright as the sun.

She had hoped to find the dragon ball in an approachable spot, but of course, it was not lying in the middle of the road, waiting to be picked up. However, did it necessarily have to lie on top of a small edge, four yards below the road she was currently kneeling on? She sat back on her behind, her hands playing with the dirty ground, when an evil being named Chagall snorted directly in her ears. With a jump start she turned around, her right hand clutched to her chest, she felt like she had aged twenty years in the blink of the eye. And… was the hack snickering at her? Bulma's eyes narrowed dangerously, but for once, she tempered justice with mercy and walked towards her bag. Quickly she grabbed the long rope and knotted it until something akin to basket formed.

_Well, sort of…_

Again, Bulma kneeled down at the brink of the cliff and gulped, when she stared down at the depth below her. Shaking her head she tried to chase off the mental image of her falling down the cliff and aimed for the precious dragon ball. Yet reeling in her prey was harder than she had expected. The wind was swaying the rope and her trembling hands didn't help matters, either. Her tongue darted between her right and left cheek, her eyes became teary as she focused on her task. She stretched, she shifted and she waggled and tilted. Her fishing record was rather pathetic, therefore it didn't surprise her when she had no success with this method. Her recklessness however, was an entirely different matter. She had never thought she would be so stupid to toss the rope aside and climb down the rock face, but she did! After all, desperate times called for drastic measures.

Bulma found herself standing on the small platform, her back pressed against the rock face. Her left hand clutched the dragon ball, while the right hand was pressed against the forehead. She had no fever that was for sure. Still, she was still lacking a proper explanation for her stupidity. She had always boasted about her intelligence, an attribute she clearly inherited from her father.

Since her early childhood she had strived for her father's praise by surprising him with her wits and creativity. In fact, she had been able to earn his acknowledgement and consequently he had allowed her to assist him in his projects. As she grew older so did her responsibilities and her work had become more important.

Her vision blurred and her sobbing echoed through the canyon. How was she supposed to get out of this desperate situation? Had her reckless behaviour not only doomed her own future, but her father's as well?

The image of soldiers of the Red Ribbon Army surfaced, their rough movements, her mother's tears and her father's defeated expression. Her own silent cries resonated in her ears again.

_What have I done?_


	10. Unexpected

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal. Prompt: Hero – 400 words. Originally posted on March 19th 2011.

Enjoy!

+++ooo+++ 

Standing on the rock platform beneath the road, Bulma was indulging herself in various worst case scenarios of what might happen to her father and to herself, when something heavy hit her head. She was so startled, she almost lost her balance on the small edge, but thankfully fate was on her side for once. She was able to regain her posture, her limbs still trembling. When something brushed against her cheek, she turned her head around and with wide eyes she realized what had smacked against her head.

Immediately her head shot up and her puffy red eyes were kindled by a spark of hope. Looking over the edge of the road was her horse! Her wonderful and magnificent and absolutely clever horse! No, he had to be the smartest horse of all, because he was holding the rope between his teeth.

"You are my hero, Chagall!" she chirped.

Grabbing the rope, she hoped he wouldn't let go of it and started to climb. It was a hard struggle with a lot of panting and cursing on her part. She was trying the best and her muscles were burning, but she didn't give up. Twice she was about to slip and twice a clever movement of the black horse had helped her to regain the balance.

First her hands, then her upper body half landed on the road. Her legs were aching but obediently pushed the last few inches, so that she now was hugging the ground beneath her as if it was a dear friend whom she hadn't seen in years. She was interrupted, when small black hooves were prancing in front of her calling for attention.

With the last of her strength she got up and threw her arms around her hero's neck. She was laughing heartily, ignoring the grumpiness of her saviour. He had turned around his head and eyes her suspiciously, but she didn't mind it at all. Suddenly life was good again, suddenly Chagall's antics were endearing and thus she couldn't resist the urge and thus she positioned herself in front of him, grabbed him by his harness and showered his mouth with small pecks. When she felt satisfied with his expression, his eyes were twitching and his ears were standing in an odd angle, she released him. When he backed away several yards, she couldn't help but to laugh at her fearless hero.


	11. Wishes

Written for the Blue and Black – A Bulma and Vegeta Community at Livejournal, where it won third place. Prompt: Brush – 200 words. Originally posted on March 30th 2011.

Enjoy!

+++ooo+++

"You are going to love this, trust me."

Bulma giggled, while she tied Chagall's reigns onto a tree. Ignoring the anxious twitching of his small ears, she rummaged through her bag, until she found the curry comb, which she proudly presented to her companion. Taking his snuffle as a sign of approval, she began to groom her little friend.

If Bulma was entirely honest with herself, she did this not only to show Chagall her gratitude for him saving her, but also because she longed to touch and explore his black coat ever since she met him in the stables three days ago.

As Bulma brushed the sand and dirt out of his fur, she relished its smoothness. It was almost like black silk, so soft and lordly. Soon enough, the curry comb lay forgotten on the ground, while Bulma's hands skimmed through his coat. There was nothing she hated more than the cold, but his wiry body provided more warmth than she could ask for.

"You know what, Chagall? I wish there were men like you. With great hair, a muscular body and who are smart and brave to boot!"

Chagall answered her in his own way: With droppings.


	12. Memories

I am so sorry! It had been a really long time, since my last update, especially since this drabble was originally published on April 7th 2011. Please, don't chop my head off (even though I do deserve it). This Drabble was initally written for the Blue & Black Community at Livejournal. Prompt: Ribbon - 500 words.

Have fun!

+++ooo+++ 

"_Can I open it, now?" Bulma asked, her voice giddy with excitement._

_Her parents exchanged looks, smiling from on ear to the other, when they finally nodded. Bulma, never a patient one, tore the wrapping paper from the large box. She had a hunch as to what was inside of this box, but when she eventually opened it, she was unable to contain her joy. A loud cheer escaped her throat, as she stood up and glomped her parents. Hugging them tightly, she kissed them and uttered her gratitude. __Her parents were simply the best!  
When she had showered enough love on them, Bulma grabbed the box and made a wild dash towards her room. __As soon as she had arrived there, she hastily began to undress, tossing her blouse and skirt aside. With the uttermost care she unfolded the precious dress and released it from its confinement. __Due to its elaborateness it was a bit tricky to put on, especially with no one to help her, but eventually, she succeeded. _

_Her reflection in the mirror gaped at the cream-coloured silky dress and the many midnight-blue ribbons that were attached to it. The dress was even more beautiful then what she remembered when she had seen it for the first time in the store. With a last glance at her fabulous gown, she slowly returned to the living room in which her parents were waiting for her. After all, she was sixteen now and a lady, especially one in a fancy dress, did not run. __No, she was sure of it: She was gliding across the floor._

"_Sweetheart, you look amazing!" her mother chirped as soon as she entered the room. __Her father, always a quiet man, had tears in his eyes. _

"_All I need now, is a prince, right, daddy?" Bulma said, while turning around, so that her parents could have a better look at their now grown-up daughter. _

_In the very moment, in which Bulma thought her life was perfect and she felt like the happiest woman in the world, a loud crack ended the merry atmosphere. Through the front door a troupe of soldiers burst into their lives. Then, everything happened in seconds, everything became blurred: sounds, vision, smells. __Angry shouts, frightened cries, green uniforms and angry red logos surrounded by the stink of gunpowder. _

_When they led away her father, Bulma felt helpless. She wanted to do something, anything, but she was frozen on her spot. The backs of the soldiers, the logo of the Red Ribbon Army laughing at her, were forever imprinted in her memory. When she came to her senses, she was furious with the world. She looked down at herself and it seemed that even the ribbons of her dress were mocking her. Thus, Bulma ripped them of, one by one…_

A loud cry and with a start, Bulma was wide awake, her heart beating madly. She scanned the scene, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Except from…

"Chagall?"


	13. Fears

Yeah, I managed to write chapter thirteen quite quickly. This drabble was written for the Senses Challenge at Blue & Black community at Livejournal. This chapter's prompt: Sight. Published on September 14th 2011.

Have fun!

+++ooo+++ 

"Chagall?" Bulma repeated.

Bulma sat up from her makeshift bed of their small campsite, as the sight in front of her was very peculiar. It was still in the middle of the night and the fire had burnt down to embers, yet her eyes were able to perceive the surroundings quite well, because the moon shone brightly upon the camp on this night before full moon. Therefore, Bulma saw that there was nothing out of the ordinary. No intruder, no one threating their lives, everything was just the way it had been before she had fallen asleep. However, her horse pressed himself against the stonewall, distancing himself from the rock she had tied him onto as far as possible, wheezing and nickering as if he was in agony.

She stood up and carefully approached the upset stallion, making soothing noises in order to calm him down, but he shook his neck violently and pressed himself further against the rocks. She halted. It would have been too dangerous for her, if she had continued. Her worries increased. What was going on with Chagall? And why did he keep staring on the rope-

Bulma quirked an eyebrow, when she noticed a movement on the rock. She approached the knot of the rope and bent down. There, crawling on the rock, determined to get on the rope, was a small worm. She carefully caught the small creature between her index and thumb and raised.

"Are you causing all this ruckus," she said flatly and showed Chagall the small worm between her fingers, who reared as a response, "Just because of one tiny, little worm?"


	14. Hag

Two chapters in one day, yay! But now I'm tired and the next chapter will have to wait until the day after tomorrow. Now, this drabble was written for the Blue & Black community at Livejournal. It was published on September 14th 2011 and the prompt was: Grape (Fruit Salad Challenge).

Have fun! And also, thank you so much for you kind reviews. 3

+++ooo+++ 

"Did you hear that, Chagall?"

Bulma's black horse ignored her as usual and continued his trot. She shook her head and patted his neck, but her display of affection did not distract her from being hungry. At least her pal had enough to eat, even if the dried weeds he seemed to prefer weren't exactly delicious. She had tried them, too, only to spit the bitter plant out again. However, the worst thing was that she had had the distinct feeling that he had made fun of her. Every time she had a little accident, the mischievous stallion would snicker at her!

She was brought out of her reverie, when Chagall slowed down. She was about to nudge him in protest, but then she saw the reason, why had fallen back to a slow walk: Standing next to the dusty road, was an old woman, clad in filthy robes. Bulma strained at the reigns and Chagall halted instantly. She dismounted and led him towards the woman.

"Err... Hello? Could you please tell me where the next village is?" Bulma asked hesitantly.

The woman's wrinkled face lightened up and she smiled at Bulma and nodded.

"Just follow the path for a few more miles, you will reach a forest soon. Behind that, you will find a small village," the woman answered.

"Thank you."

Bulma was about to turn around to mount Chagall, who seemed to be occupied with fighting off a fly, when the woman suddenly grabbed her by the arm. Bulma gasped, but the woman's smile broadened. With her other hand, she produced a small bag.

"Take some grapes," she said cordially.

Bulma eyed her critically, but she took the bag nonetheless. After all, her stomach was currently in charge of her actions. She inclined her head and the woman released her arm. The blue haired woman stored the grapes in her saddlebag and mounted Chagall, who was chewing on something. She nudged Chagall and he resumed his walk.

"And take some advice," the woman suddenly yelled after her.

Bulma turned her head around, as Chagall accelerated abruptly into a gallop.

"Beware of that horse!"


	15. Bathing

As promised, the next chapter. This drabble was written for the Blue & Black community at Livejournal. It was published on September 16th 2011 and the prompt was: Indigo (Spectrum Challenge).

**Warning:** This chapter contains nudity... Thought I should mention it.^^

With that being said: Have fun! And also, thank you so much for your lovely reviews. 3

+++ooo+++

"I don't believe it!"

Bulma dismounted and stepped towards a small clearing in the woods. They had somehow managed to lose their way in the dense forest and they hadn't seen the path they had been walking on for hours. It was already getting darker, the air however remained heated. Bulma sweated and her muscles were sore from the ride, as Chagall's short and abrupt strides were straining them and the uneven ground hadn't helped matters, either.

But now that she gazed at the indigo surface of a small pond, everything was forgiven and forgotten. Without further ado, Bulma dragged her companion behind her towards the pond and tied his reigns onto a low branch of a nearby tree. He neighed and his tail lashed about, but Bulma evaded his attacks.

"Stop it already, or I'll force you to come with me!" she yelled.

This had, of course, no effect whatsoever on the sable horse. Bulma sighed, retreated to the pond and started to undress. There was no arguing with Mister Grumpy and so she decided she would simply ignore him and his quirks.

When the last piece of clothing had fallen to the ground, the blue haired woman carefully stepped into the water. Though of a fresh and beautiful tinge of blue, the pond was not very chilly, but it was enough to cool her down. Bulma submerged into the water, relishing the weightlessness while she dived and finally resurfaced. She swam for a bit, before she returned to the edge of the pond and exited it.

There she stood, stern naked and enjoyed the refreshing wetness of her skin, while she could. The quiet forest contributed to the peaceful atmosphere, too. Bulma's eyebrows drew together and she turned around to face Chagall.

"What's the matter with you now?" she asked snippily.

Chagall had stopped his silliness. In fact, he had stopped moving altogether. And for a short, but horrific moment, Bulma had thought that he had stopped breathing as well. Fortunately, Chagall seemed to be just fine, even if his eyes were somewhat dilated.

Oh, she would never understand that horse!


	16. Pursuit

The next chapter, yay! This drabble was written for the Blue & Black community at Livejournal. It was originally published on April 24th 2011 and the prompt was: Run - 300 words. This, however, is a changed version of the original drabble. I needed to change a few things for consistency's sake. Nothing major though.

With that being said: Have fun! And also, thank you so much for your lovely reviews. Everytime I read them, I am prancing like Chagall did in the last chapter. XD

+++ooo+++

_No, not again! I am going to strangle his dirty, little neck this time, even if it is the last thing I'll ever do!_

Bulma's lungs were burning and her legs and arms got heavier for every yard she ran deeper into the forest. Her hair often got trapped in the thick underwood of the woods, her legs now featured a nice amount of shallow cuts and on her forehead a large bruise slowly appeared which she had gained when she had tripped over a large root and had fallen to the ground.

And yet, Bulma did not slow down. If she did, she would probably never see her untrustworthy mount again and that was unacceptable, as she had to settle a score with him. She could not believe that he had run away again. One moment of carelessness and the sly hack had used it for his advantage and had made his escape, just when she had thought that they had agreed on something! She had thought that they had made some progress and that he had finally accepted her as his master. Maybe, she had expected too much from a horse. Maybe his desire for freedom overruled everything else.

It would be a miracle if she found him in this vast forest, in the middle of the night and even if it was full moon, she wasn't able to see much, while running this fast. Fate had clearly conspired against her and if she ever found the gods that were responsible for this mess, she would give them a piece of her mind.

Bulma burst through a very dense bush and was suddenly standing in the middle of a clearing. She paused for a moment, as she was finally out of puff, when her eyes grew wide.

She was not alone.


	17. Revelation

The return of the Black Stallion! =)

This chapter was written for the Blue & Black community at Livejournal. It was published on January 23rd 2012 and the prompt was: Blue (Spectrum Challenge) - 851 Words.

I hope you enjoy it. And forgive my clunky English, for I haven't written anything in a long while.

++ooo++ 

Bulma gulped. When she had rushed through the deserted forest in pursuit of her rogue horse, she hadn't expected to meet another human being. It seemed that the forest was not as deserted as she had initially thought. The man who stood right next to a medium sized boulder crossed his arms.

"Er... Hello," she said weekly.

Considering her experiences with men over the last few days, the blue haired woman simply hoped she hadn't run straight into the arms of yet another lunatic who had a particular liking for young and beautiful females. Yet, the way he stared at her made her feel uncomfortable. Bulma's head was working to capacity. The man was a few inches shorter than her, yet judging by his muscular arms that were emphasized by his alien looking blue training suit, she would probably lose any kind of close combat.

"Ahem... Have you seen a horse?"

"No," the short answer came.

Bulma's shoulder slumped. She felt so silly. Of course, her stupid horse hadn't done her the favour to create a witness by running through this- Bulma's gaze focused on the soil. Though it was dark, she could make out distinct hoof prints on the ground. She bent down and followed the prints, her pulse accelerated, so did her steps until the tips of white boots came into her view. Bulma straightened, but her eyes remained on the spot where the hoof prints suddenly vanished. Then, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She cocked her head slightly. There, right on the ground behind the boulder was Chagall's tack lying.

_What the hell is going on?_

A small tapping noise reminded her of the stranger's presence. Bulma redirected her gaze from the tack back to the white boots. The man was drumming with his left foot. Her gaze rose from his feet over his rather short legs and furry belt to his face. At first, she regarded his black upright standing hair and the prominent widow's peak that dominate his forehead. But then his eyes caught her attention. The black orbs that stared back at her, glowing darkly like two onyxes. Like two awfully familiar onyxes.

_No._

_Nooo!_

_NOOOOOOO!_

That couldn't be! There was no way that the stranger in front of her and her horse Chagall were two faces of the same coin. Her knees gave in and she dropped down to the floor. Her gaze was hefted on the stranger, who stood motionless in front of her.

"May I… May I ask your name?"

The man averted his gaze, then: "Vegeta."

_Of course, you are being silly, Bulma! He is a man, a quite manly man, not a horse. _

"I'm Bulma. Nice to-," she stopped in the middle of her sentence.

She felt something creeping up her leg. She glanced down at herself and saw a little worm. A little, harmless worm who was quite determined to crawl into higher regions.

_A worm…_

Bulma snorted. She was probably completely insane for even considering this, but if she didn't, she would never know for sure and the nagging feeling in her mind would haunt her for all eternity. Thus, she carefully took the worm into her hand, without having the stranger noticing it, as he still was staring into the opposite direction. She slowly rose and walked over to the man, who instantly turned his head to face her.

"I want to introduce you to a friend of mine," Bulma chirped jovially.

"I thought your stallion ran away," the stranger replied flatly.

Bulma's smile faltered and she raised an eyebrow. How did he know that her horse was a stallion? She never had told him. Nor that her horse had abandoned her out of its own free will. The stranger suddenly became very interested in his own boots.

"No," she said and a triumphant smile now appeared on her lips. "I have another friend. Here!"

Bulma shoved the worm right under the stranger's nose. The reaction gave him away. He jumped back several metres in just one leap, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"Put it away!" he yelled in an unnaturally high voice.

"You cannot fool me, admit it! You are Chagall!" she screamed back.

"Put it away!"

"Only, when you confess!"

"I confess nothing," he shouted at her and took a step towards her.

Bulma nodded and walked towards him, the worm in the centre of her outstretched hand. The man retreated rearward without looking, therefore he tripped over a small branch and fell backwards. As she approached him further, he began to sweat and his face quickly lost its colour.

"Fine, FINE!" he hollered.

Bulma sighed and set the innocent worm down on the branches of a nearby bush. Then she returned to the man, crossed her arms and watched, as he stood up, regaining his cool exterior. For someone who was mortally afraid of worms, he was definitely too lordly for his own good.

"I am Vegeta," he stated.

She could see the reflection of the full moon shining in his dark eyes.

"I am the horse you've named Chagall."


	18. Fairy Tale

Hello! First of all: A great, great, great thanks is in order to everyone supporting this story. I never wanted to abandon the story, but I have been in hospital for quite a long time with rare access to the internet (not that I had the brain to do something useful XD). Hence the long absence and the clunky language. This story is so much fun to write and therefore I hope it will continue to be fun to read as well. =)

Today's chapter is written for the Blue & Black community at Livejournal as always; and as always I recommend you visit it yourself. ;) Prompt: Prince - 600+ words. This chapter contains 667 words and was published on January 25th 2012.

And now have fun!

+++ooo++ 

"I am the horse you've named Chagall."

There, the cat was out of the bag. It didn't make sense to deny it any further, since the blue haired girl already had figured out as much. Vegeta now had to cut his losses, for he still needed her to collect the remaining Dragon Balls for him. They were probably the only thing able to rid him of his curse. Therefore he needed her to trust him, but since there were a lot of things in his vita that would scare her off, he had to resort to lying, no matter how much he despised lies. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"But how? How did you..."

"Become a horse?" Vegeta suggested.

The girl called Bulma nodded.

"I was cursed by a nefarious witch."

"A witch?"

"Yes, I presume she hexed me, because I rejected her. She couldn't accept the fact that I wasn't in love with her. And when her love potions had failed her..." he trailed off.

The lie had the desired effect on Bulma, as she covered her mouth in shock. Vegeta had problems to keep his façade in check, as her sympathetic look made him smirk internally. Women, they were so easily deceived, especially the younger ones.

"And what about your family? Didn't you try to find them?" she asked anxiously.

Vegeta sighed deeply. "I am... I am not from this planet, Bulma."

Her eyes grew so large, he thought they would pop out of her head any time soon. Then her head shot up and she gazed at the stars, her mouth slightly opened. After she had wasted yet another few minutes of his precious time, she redirected her gaze at him.

"Where are you from? What is your species called? Can you show me your planet in the starry sky?" she burst out.

"Well, I am from the planet Vegeta and-"

"You were named after your planet?" Bulma interrupted hastily.

"It is tradition to name the heir to the throne after the planet," he drawled.

Bulma blinked. "You are a prince?"

"Yes," Vegeta answered and for once he didn't even have to lie.

"Wow... So, is the spell broken then?"

"Unfortunately, no. I always retransform the night of the full moon. And tomorrow, when the sun rises, I'll be a horse again."

"Isn't there a way to break the spell?" she asked, wringing her hands.

Another faked sigh. "I am afraid not," he moaned. "Unless…"

The human girl jumped up and rushed over towards him. There she stood in front of him, her entire body trembling because of her anxiety. Vegeta felt a headache coming up. Her constant mood swings made him feel dizzy. Yet, he had to stick to his plan.

"Unless what?" she demanded.

"Those orbs you have been collecting, those Dragon Balls…"

"The Dragon Balls?"

"Rumour has it that they can fulfil one's wishes," he elaborated.

Bulma averted her gaze. "Yes, they can, if one has collected all seven of them."

Vegeta cocked his head. "I never got to ask you. Why are you after them?"

She was still staring at the ground, but the sniffing gave her away anyhow.

"My father was abducted by the Red Ribbon Army," she finally confessed. "I need the Dragon Balls to rescue him."

_I am going to be sick…_

Vegeta drew in a deep breath, before he lifted her chin a fraction with his left hand. She winced, but seemed to relax when she looked him in the eyes again.

"Bulma, my people need me. Without your help I'll never be able to return to them," he whispered.

"But my father…," she began.

"I don't know what strength I can summon, but I swear to you, we will rescue your father!"

She gaped. "Without the help of the Dragon Balls?"

He nodded firmly. "Yes. I am the greatest warrior of my kin. Together, nothing can stop us!"

"But you are a horse!" she exclaimed.

_I am a prince, you stupid girl!_


	19. Scream

This chapter is promptless. Have fun. ;)

+++ooo+++

Vegeta leaned against a tree at the border of the clearing and watched the blue haired girl. She had told him that she needed time to think about his proposition. Grudgingly he had approved for he needed to maintain his nice guy façade. Therefore, Bulma was sitting on the boulder in the middle of the clearing. He could see her bathed in the moonlight, chewing her nails, furrowing her brow. What a disgusting habit for a woman, he thought to himself.

The Saiyan waited and waited. He had no idea for how long, but he was running out of time. There were only few hours left till sunrise and he'd rather spent his precious time in his true form on something useful and not wasting it on waiting for the obnoxious girl to come to a decision. He was just about to protest against her treatment, when she suddenly began to scream shrilly.

Vegeta sighed and was about to approach her, when she came dashing towards him, still screaming and thus rupturing his sensitive eardrums.

"Are you mad or something? Stop screaming already," he yelled back.

"You… You," she breathed out.

"Me?" he asked, relieved that she had finally stopped screaming.

Her face was brilliant red and she was seriously out of puff. What a weak human! He still thought this about her, even after she had just smacked him in the face. The girl probably had lost it now completely.

"Why did you do that for?" he inquired, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"You have seen me naked, you pervert!"


	20. Confusion

It was odd to sit across Vegeta in his humanoid form, thought Bulma as she stared into the rekindled fire of their earlier camp that did little to warm her insides. It was not even a cool night, but she couldn't help, but to shiver. Normally, she would've have Chagall at her side, but asking the aloof man in front of her, whether he could cuddle with her, was out of the question.

Whenever she had felt uncomfortable during her journey thus far, she had talked to her horse, assuming that he wouldn't understand what she was talking about, but the noises he had produced in response had soothed her nonetheless. In this very moment however, she did feel uncomfortable, but it was because of him. How was she supposed to treat him from this moment on?

Bulma shook her head. If she had no answer to the situation, then how must Vegeta feel? He was a prince from a faraway planet and if it hadn't been for this cursed witch, he would have never had to face his current predicament at all. This was so unjust!

"Is something bothering you?"

Vegeta's voice pulled her back to earth and she stared at him with an uncertain gaze.

"It is just… This is so confusing."

"So you'd rather not help me then?" he asked, his voice as neutral as it could be.

Bulma shook her head once more. "I have promised you, just as you have promised me."

"What is the matter then?"

Bulma remained silent for the rest of the night.

+++ooo+++

This and the coming chapters will be rather small to get me going again.


	21. Royality

_And I felt uncomfortable because of __what__? _

Bulma hadn't slept very much last night, because her brain had been working on a solution in how to handle the newfound situation. After all, her stallion had turned out to be a cursed prince.

And now this.

Her morning had begun with the esteemed prince neighing into her ear giving her almost a heart attack in the process. Then his lordship had persisted on her climbing a nearby tree to get him some fresh apples, for the apples on the ground were no way suited to his refined tastes and finally, when she had called him by his given royal name, he had simply turned around and gifted her with some royal brown apples of his own making.

"Chagall, you are a creep."

+++ooo+++

In German, we call the dung of a horse "Pferdeäpfel" - horses' apples. =)


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